90 THE FAT OF THE LAND 



made, and the entire prospective orchard was 

 safely landed. Monday saw our whole force at 

 work planting trees. Small stakes had been 

 driven to give the exact centre for each hole, so 

 that the trees, viewed from any direction, would 

 be in straight lines. Sam, Zeb, and Judson were 

 to dig the holes, putting the surface dirt to the 

 right, and the poor earth to the left ; I was to 

 prune the roots and keep tab on the labels ; 

 Johnson and Anderson were to set the trees, 

 Anderson using a shovel and Johnson his hands, 

 feet, and eyes ; while Thompson was to puddle 

 and distribute the trees. The puddling was 

 easily done. We sawed an oil barrel in halves, 

 placed these halves on a stone boat, filled them 

 two-thirds full of water, and added a lot of fine 

 clay. Into this thin mud the roots of each tree 

 were dipped before planting. 



My duty was to shorten the roots that were 

 too long, and to cut away the bruised and broken 

 ones. The top pruning was to be done after the 

 trees were all set and banked. The stock was 

 fine in every respect, fully up to promise. 

 Watching Johnson set his first tree convinced 

 me that he knew more about planting than I 

 did. He lined and levelled it ; he pawed surface 

 dirt into the hole, and churned the roots up and 

 down ; more dirt, and he tamped it ; still more 

 dirt, and he tramped it ; yet more dirt, and he 

 stamped it until the tree stood like a post ; then 

 loose dirt, and he left it. I was sure Johnson 



